When Rivals Lose (Bayshore Rivals 2)

Oliver’s head is nestled against my chest as the room grows quiet. Moans and pants slowly turn into even breathing. Banks is still inside me, and he doesn’t make a move to pull out. We all just lie there, our bodies intertwined.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asks, peppering soft kisses against my skin.

“More than okay. I feel whole… like we belong together.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you, haven’t I?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry it took me until now to realize it.”

“That’s okay, I’ll forgive you.” I can almost see the smile on Banks’ face at my back, which causes me to smile. My eyes feel heavy, and I feel so content I could sleep just like this, and maybe I will. Banks slips out of me, and they both wrap me up in their arms, creating a cocoon. My breathing starts to even out when I hear someone moving, only then do I remember why I should have been quiet.

Sullivan.

“You guys seriously fucking suck,” he mutters under his breath. Banks and Oliver chuckle next to me, the whole bed vibrating with their laughter, but I feel bad. A second later, I hear Sullivan get up off the couch and the sound of the bathroom door closing. I briefly consider getting up to go and find him, to give him something too, but decide against it. Sullivan had me first, and he’ll have me again, soon.

I discover then, as I’m part-way between sleep and wakefulness that it doesn’t matter if my brain can’t remember them, because my heart and my body, they’ll never forget.

9

The next morning, I expect things to be a little awkward, but I’m pleasantly surprised when they’re not. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Everything just feels right, like it’s meant to be. I’m deliciously sore and end up spending a good thirty minutes in the shower letting the hot water beat against my back before I get out and get dressed.

When I return to the living area, Oliver is standing in front of the stove making breakfast, while Banks disappears into the bathroom. Sullivan is sitting on the couch, surfing the channels, so I decide to join him. I sit next to him, leaving a few inches between us, but he shakes his head and grabs my arm, pulling me into his side.

“I think I deserve some cuddling, at least,” Sullivan grins, and I can feel my cheeks heat thinking about last night.

Cringing, I mumble, “Sorry you were kind of left out…”

“Don’t be,” he interrupts. “One, I deserved it. Two, I didn’t share with them the first time I had you. Three, this is all about you… and you sounded like you had a good time, a great time, and to me, that’s all that matters.”

“You kids want pancakes?” Oliver questions from the stove.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Sullivan answers. Just then, my stomach growls so loud that I know he can hear it, and with a chuckle, he adds, “Harlow is too.”

A few minutes later, Banks comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed for the day, and we all sit down at the table to eat together.

“So, what are we going to do now?” I ask as I spear a piece of pancake with my fork. “Are we just going to hide out here or can we go back to classes today?”

“We need to figure out who is trying to hurt you first,” Oliver mumbles while shoving a piece of pancake past his lips.

“We are not going to figure that out here, though, are we? Plus, what if the burner was an actual accident? Freak accidents happen all the time,” I reply, grabbing my glass of milk.

“And you being pushed off the boat? And hit by a car? And drugged at a party? All of that coincidence? Each of them a freak accident?” Sullivan points out, and I can’t argue with that. One of those I could consider being an accident, but all of them, yeah, no. Which means I need to come to terms with the fact that someone is trying to kill me.

“We’ve already caught Shelby in one lie, maybe she had something to do with it?” Banks suggests.

“I don’t know…” I think back on all the time I’ve spent with her in the last few weeks. There’s never been anything off about her. She seems like a great friend, my parents seem to love her, and there were pictures of us in my room, pictures in which I looked very happy.

“Why would my best friend want me dead?”

“I’m not sure,” Banks answers. “I really don’t know why anybody would want you dead.”

“You hated me at one point, so what’s to say that other people don’t?” At the mention of our past, Banks’ face tightens, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

“I don’t think our hate was ever fully deserved, not for you, anyways. I think your dad is mostly to blame… actually all of our parents. Before your accident, we always went off what our parents told us about your family, but after we hired our own private investigator, we found out that even though your father seemed to be the main instigator, our father wasn’t as squeaky clean as he made himself out to be.”